a poem

I was kindof under a trance when I wrote this one, so don't ask! I wouldn't mind comments on it though... I'm trying to figure out what it means myself...

Winter of my Life

As I look yonder, there is shadow in the distance
that so entirely separates me from my childhood.
and all I can see is mist,
and fog,
and tears,
lacy dewdrops that hang on spiders’ silken webs,
and icy frost on the windowpanes,
that makes the snowy world outside
look
almost like a dream.

And as I sit here by the fire,
in my worn old creaky rocking-chair,
with my long gray beard,
and my long gray hair,
and my weary bones,
I feel a shiver go down my spine,
almost as old as the rocking-chair itself,
that noisily complains,
groaning like a sick old man,
as I rock
with my eyelids closed,
painting a picture in my head,
of old forgotten days.

The cat purrs on my lap,
her soft gray fur is silk:
ashen like the fireplace,
like the smoke that billows,
up through the chimney
and gets lost in the night
so lonely and dark.

The angry wind howls
through the cracks in the walls
so much like the cracks in my face
that long dark years have carved
with cold vengeful hands
almost as if to say:

You have taken away the happy child
of Spring and Summer,
who chased dandelion fluff,
and picked daisies
and caught fireflies
and watched cottony, puffy clouds
sail across the sky.
How they have suffered,
Spring and Summer,
from your heartless, senseless
act
of careless cruelty!
O Dark Embittered Soul,
you shall surely taste
the Wrath
of Winter!

Jack Frost has come,
knocking at the door,
sneaking through the cracks
of the walls and of the floor,
and into my heart.
Into this deep and depressed
Winter of my life
that kills all hope
with dreadful, malicious schemes.
Because I have allowed the innocent child
to pass away
in the cold and dark
Reality
that has come to pass.

Mona